Together
by animagus1369
Summary: It's one of those relationships that stands the test of time. Minor slash. Can't tell you who. If you don't like it, don't read it, and don't review it.


There's never been anyone else for me, not really. Oh, there are passing interests. There have been a few more-than-passing interests. Still, no one has ever compared to him. Not in the deepest parts of my heart and my mind, the parts he shares as freely though they were his own. It seems like we've been close like this forever. It seems like no matter how far apart we venture, we always return to what's familiar. We always will.  
  
Who could understand him better than I do, after all?  
  
And who could understand me better than he does?  
  
It was never a case of passing shy glances in the corridors at school. There were no notes passed between us during lessons, no meaningful gazes across the Common Room. We never needed that. I didn't need to meet his eyes to know what he was thinking. I didn't need written proof that he needed me as much as I needed him. Nor did I ever feel a need to prove my feelings to him. He knew.  
  
He always knew.  
  
I always knew.  
  
We always knew.  
  
I can remember lying in my dormitory, behind the closed hangings of my four- poster, wishing it wasn't night. Wishing I wasn't alone there. How many nights did I long for his company? Knowing he wasn't far away, knowing he was lying awake just as I was, knowing he needed my presence as much as I needed his.it was bittersweet torture.  
  
It only made the mornings, when we saw each other again, that much sweeter. The separations were a test of sorts. Could I feel him without him being there?  
  
I could.  
  
Could he feel me, when we were apart?  
  
He could.  
  
We arrived at Hogwarts on the train together, already best friends before the long journey, the longest either of us had ever taken, had ended. We sailed across the lake in a boat without a sail or oars, under moonlight that turned the world silvery and mysterious. We entered the Great Hall nervous and trembling, though we'd made a pact on the train to pretend we were brave, together. We were Sorted into the same house. We sat beside each other at the Feast, learned the password to the portrait-hole together, then went up the tower stairs, exhausted from excitement and too much food.  
  
That first night, we were merely two little first-years behind velvet hangings in beds that were separated by just enough distance to create loneliness. When morning came, we sat beside each other at breakfast, far less interested in the class schedules Professor McGonagall had handed out than in being together again.  
  
You'd have thought we'd been separated for ages, not hours.  
  
Every night since has been the same.  
  
We're in the same classes. We made sure of that, laughing in corners of the Common Room and plotting-though I doubt anyone in Gryffindor didn't know exactly which pair of students would be in all the same classes. It wasn't as though we tried to keep it a secret. There wouldn't have been much point. We were in each others' pockets far too often for anyone not to have noticed. Not after so many years.  
  
Some nights we stayed inside the Common Room. Some nights we prowled the castle. It was the rare night that we were not in danger of getting into trouble over something. We liked it that way. I doubt anyone had any idea of just how much trouble we could have gotten into, if we'd been caught even half the times we left the portrait-hold after hours.  
  
Don't get me wrong. I have no doubt that they suspected him. He was always up-front about the fact that there was nothing too daring for him to try, no trouble he wouldn't risk for a bit of fun. There was no hidden door he couldn't find, no practical joke he wouldn't play, no danger he wouldn't brave for the chance to sneak back to the portrait-hole fighting back laughter in the early hours of the morning.  
  
Everyone knew he was like that. There simply wasn't a shy bone in his body.  
  
Who would have known that better than his silent partner? Who would be more aware of his daring than the one who followed behind him? Followed entirely willingly; there was never any doubt of that, but I was never the one with the ideas.  
  
We each had our roles. We were comfortable with them. His was leader.  
  
Mine was follower. And I was a damned good one if I say so myself.  
  
No false modesty in my family.  
  
I miss those simple days, those school days. Even the memory of watching him defy Professor Umbridge, standing there next to the Portable Swamp with easy courage, as brave as anyone I've ever known, seems like part of a simpler time now. We've left school. We've passed all the tests we ever plan to take. And reality, in some ways, has been a crushing blow.  
  
I don't mean to imply that it's not a relief to have left school. Merlin knows he was never much of a fan of formal education. Nor was I. I suppose it's just that being of age, being responsible, being part of the adult Wizarding World, was a lot more difficult than I'd ever suspected it would be.  
  
He'd told me it would be a struggle. From the moment he Summoned his broomstick from Umbridge's office and flew away from the school, he'd had a much better grip on just exactly what adulthood would be like.  
  
Maybe I just didn't want to believe that the fun and games would ever take a backseat.  
  
Maybe we were both fooling ourselves.  
  
All I know for certain is that, lying lonely in my bed that night, I realized for the first time that everything had changed.  
  
Well, everything but the fact that he was lying lonely in his bed, aware of the same things.  
  
A little thing like Dolores Umbridge couldn't have taken that away. And that's been my strength over the past few difficult months. If Umbridge couldn't break the bond between us, if what happened at the Ministry last month couldn't break the bond between us-hell, if the official announcement of Voldemort's return couldn't tear us apart-then maybe there isn't anything that can.  
  
It seems like we've been together forever.  
  
Maybe we will be.  
  
We've had our fights. No relationship is ever perfect. We've had some awful arguments. The last time was just after his younger brother and sister, Harry, and Hermione returned from the Ministry. After the initial shock of the news, he had made a joke that just caught me wrong, I suppose. It was too soon. I found myself screaming at him. I swore I'd never speak to him again.  
  
I was fooling myself.  
  
It wasn't a half-hour before we were back, the same as we had always been.  
  
Thank Merlin for it.  
  
We've got a job to do now. He's in the Order. Wouldn't you know, I've joined, too. We'll be together, no matter what comes. Did either of us really think twice about the need for action?  
  
I might not be the out-in-front troublemaker that he is, but I damned well know what's important.  
  
Would my decision seem less noble if I admitted that part of the reason I never doubted joining the Order was right was that, whatever happened, I wanted to be near him?  
  
I so admire his strength, you see. His strength and his courage, and his mind. Oh, don't get me wrong. His red hair and all those freckles, those depthless brown eyes, his broad shoulders and strong arms and infectious laughter aren't exactly points against him. I might be quiet, but I'm not stupid.  
  
How many people understand what he's really like, underneath the laughter and the pranks? How many people have seen through to the intense and fiercely loyal man beneath the façade? How many people know that his mind is as good as his oldest brother Bill's, though it's not always facing the same direction? How many people saw him cry in shocked relief when he heard that Ron and Ginny were safe?  
  
I know.  
  
I understand him.  
  
I've seen past the surface.  
  
I held him when he cried.  
  
He told me he didn't know what he'd have done if they hadn't come back from the Ministry. How he would have coped with his anger and guilt if they'd been badly hurt, or if they'd been killed.  
  
He didn't have to tell me.  
  
I knew.  
  
He's slumped on the sofa now, deeply asleep. He's had a busy month, what with working for the Order and working on the shop. It's time for start-of- term shopping, and making sure the stock is in and there's more on hand has exhausted him. Funny, that. He's always seemed like such a bottomless well of energy. It's strange to see him so tired. Strange to see him quiet and still.  
  
Strange to see him suddenly so much like me.  
  
I wonder if that's the way he sees me: quiet, in the background, following along like some kind of loyal sidekick.  
  
I take that back.  
  
I don't really wonder about that at all.  
  
I know what he thinks.  
  
Strangely, he sees me in much the same way I see him. He's not one for spelling it out, you understand, but he lets me know all the same. In our minds, we're equals, in every sense that truly matters.  
  
I lean against him, and let my head rest on his shoulder. In his sleep, he sighs, and his beautiful, freckled face takes on an angelic cast.  
  
Merlin knows, that's a façade. There was never a man less like an angel than Fred Weasley. The very thought of it makes me grin. Fred, an angel?  
  
Well, maybe some part of Fred is still angelic.  
  
Just like some part of him is devilish.  
  
Who would know better than me? I know him as well as I know myself. Better, in some ways, than I know myself. I've always known him inside and out, the same way he's known me, ever since we've been together.  
  
It seems like we've been together forever.  
  
I know him, and he's no angel.  
  
I smile again, and close my eyes, feeling his warmth beside me, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing in time with mine.  
  
I know him like he's the other half of my soul.  
  
Of course, he is the other half of my soul.  
  
He's my twin. 


End file.
